


pluvia

by awkwardeye



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardeye/pseuds/awkwardeye
Summary: A realization plunges Mikasa's world into a never-ending storm. She's not sure how much longer she can be quiet and ignore a part of herself.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been a week, but Mikasa can’t help but remember every time she sees Ymir. Which is terrible because, well, Ymir has the uncanny ability to _exist_ everywhere that Mikasa does along with Krista. And that just makes everything harder to forget.

Mikasa leans against the wall, her fingers pressed to her temple, as the alcohol hits. Her world has begun to spin, her eyes growing foggy and unclear with her thoughts as her heart beats in time with the thumping bass of the music playing. The voice singing is loud and distorted. She tries to focus on the words in a lame attempt to sober herself, but the noise is just noise.

And her thoughts slip whenever she glances around for some distraction and sees Ymir talking her way into Krista’s pants. Why does that make her so uncomfortable? They’re not kissing, barely even touching or hinting at intimacy, but Mikasa’s knowledge of who they are to each other makes every innocent movement so deviant. And all she can think is that they fuck each other at least semi-regularly. She shifts her weight slowly from foot to foot. That makes the floor spin, so she stops moving completely.

So what if she walked in on Ymir and Krista… It doesn’t really mean much and shouldn’t change her view of either of them. But, _fuck_ , she knows (though she’d never admit it) that she’s hung up on it because they’re both women. Despite her general tolerance, the thought of two women together makes her skin crawl even though she doesn’t want to be uncomfortable about it. It’s all love regardless of the people, but she feels guilty whenever she interacts with it.

Guiltier when she inevitably imagines herself with another concrete woman. A solid woman with a face and scent and warm body that brings forth a wave of response. Versus her odd fantasies involving men. Faceless men with imaginary bodies. Just pleasure. Erotic nonetheless. But there are other fantasies as well. Waking up beside a person, marrying a person. She says she can’t see herself marrying anyone most days, but that’s just because the man in those dreams is practically non-existent. But she still has the dreams and that must count for something.

Jean finds her leaning against the wall looking mildly irritated and vacant. He holds her hand and wraps his other arm around her waist as he leads her away, heading upstairs where a few people are smoking and trading stories.

She hears him whistle and tease Ymir playfully. She knows it comes easily to him because he doesn’t really care. He’d consider walking in on his friends who both happen to be women more amusing than guilt inducing. He’d joke about that, too. Mikasa is washed in a drunken envy for a moment before Jean’s attention returns to her.

“Mom invited us over for dinner this Sunday,” he says, casually. “What do you think about that?”

“It’s nice, baby,” she says, slurring her words only slightly as she stumbles beside him.

He smiles at her and shakes his head. “It’s about time, huh?”

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” she replies, offering her own smile. “I just need to lay down for a bit.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, hopeful because he really doesn’t want to leave yet and he hasn’t really noticed how stiff she is. There’s always a certain stiffness about her, even though they’ve been dating for a while now. He ignores it for the most part because she ignores other men for the most part; he’s not worried about her leaving him.

“Yeah.” Mikasa pulls away as they reach the landing. “I’ll find a quiet room.”

Still Jean insists on taking her away to a tucked away bedroom. He knows the house well since he goes there often for parties and the like. A group of his friends rent it out for the school year and the owners stay there for the summer or something like that, as he explained it to Mikasa when he invited her to the party he knew she wouldn’t have fun at.

Mikasa listens to him speak as foreign bodies brush against her where he can’t pull her away or glare a person off. Perfume and cologne and sweat and beer mix in the air along with the faint scent of piss and vomit near the bathroom.  They rush past her in a blur of fabric and skin and hair. Until they reach the door and she goes stumbling in. Jean helps her lay down, taking off her heels for her and kissing her cheeks before leaving.

When the door closes, the noise is cut off suddenly. Mikasa looks around in the darkness. She can make out the dim outlines of a desk, a chair, television, lamp, and nightstand beside her. She reaches out for the lamp and knocks something off of the nightstand. The noise makes her forget to turn on the light and soon she’s drifting off.

A few hours later she wakes up groggy and irritated, sober and aware of someone coming into the room. She doesn’t think much of it since it happens. Obviously, she’s sleeping in _someone’s_ room and the person coming in must be them. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:41. It’s dark, the time of day when people are prone to mindless mistakes and epiphanies.

There’s a click and a lamp turns on, illuminating the room in a dim yellow glow as Mikasa sits up, rubbing her eyes and rolling her shoulders. And then she looks at the woman who looks back at her, each for a moment not recognizing each other as they assess their situation.

Annie says nothing, but begins to strip and walk toward the bed where, nervously, Mikasa lowers her eyes and searches the floor for her shoes. Jean must’ve put them there. She remembers him taking them off when he put her down. She also remembers him possibly mentioning that the room belongs to Annie. Annie who she has a weird rivalry with even though their majors are different and they rarely see each other save for at debates or club meetings. She doesn’t dislike Annie, but she certainly doesn’t like her.

Mikasa is just aware of her.

“Jean’s wasted,” Annie says after a while because she knows Mikasa and Jean have a thing, but no one ever says just how serious that thing is.

“I figured…” Mikasa glances briefly at Annie before looking away.

Neither of them speaks for another few minutes that seem to stretch on for an hour. Mikasa knows she should get up and leave. She has no reason to stay in the bed other than she has no idea where else she would go. She doesn’t want to drink. Going home seems like the answer, but Jean has her purse and phone and she doesn’t want to cut his party short.

“Where is he?” Mikasa asks, again looking at Annie who’s now down to her underwear and probably drunk or high because it took her ten minutes to get out of her jeans and now she’s swaying by the dresser, looking for something to put on. Her hair is down, Mikasa notices.

“Upstairs?” Annie shrugs and gives up on looking. Instead, she turns and slips into bed beside Mikasa who sits completely still, refusing to even look at her.

Annie’s eyes trail up from Mikasa’s hands folded tensely in her lap to her shirt where it leaves a few inches of skin bare between it and her skirt, to her slender neck and her pale shoulders, then to her pink, plush lips. She stops there. Sure, she’s always enjoyed their competition, but it hasn’t stopped her from noticing Mikasa beyond that. And maybe she’s just a little turned on by the fact that there’s a hot girl in her bed who doesn’t seem to want to leave. Even if said girl is apparently 100% straight and definitely doesn’t like her. That’s fine; the feeling’s mutual.

“Are you gonna wait for him here?” Annie asks, testing the waters.

“Do you mind?” Mikasa sighs. “It’s just so loud out there…”

“It’s fine.”

They’re silent again. Mikasa turns and lays with her back to Annie, trying to sleep again. What’s so strange about two women sharing a bed? Nothing, except the closest she’s ever been to Annie before is when they’re trading insults, leaning across tables to sneer at each other. And she keeps thinking of Ymir and Krista.

Krista: on the couch, legs spread, skirt flipped up, shirt off.

Ymir: kneeling on the floor, hands on thighs, mouth branding Krista between the thighs.

Mikasa shifts uncomfortably. There’s a tingling between her thighs and guilt on her chest. This is not like that. She’s not like Ymir or Krista. Certainly not with Annie.

Annie stands and puts on a robe wordlessly. She ignores Mikasa’s weak apology for moving around so much.

For a few minutes, Mikasa wonders if she should just leave, but what’s the point if Annie isn’t coming back? But she is and she does with a bottle of wine and a glass. She sets them down on the nightstand in front of Mikasa and rolls her eyes.

“Try to relax or find another place to sleep,” Annie says, scowling down at Mikasa.

Mikasa hesitates but eventually pours herself a glass. The noise outside is starting to die down, but parties on campus are notorious for continuing until morning. Twenty minutes of silence and a glass of wine pass and then Annie speaks because she has no intentions of sleeping before she makes something out of her situation.

“You’re distracted,” Annie says, once more testing the water.

“It’s nothing,” Mikasa says, starting on her second glass. She takes a sip. “I mean, it’s something.”

Annie waits, letting the alcohol loosen Mikasa’s tongue.

“I didn’t know they were _that_ close…”

“Who?” Annie sits up, not expecting much out of the story, but feigning interest.

“Ymir and Krista.” Mikasa’s face flushes pink. “They’re lesbians.”

Annie bites her lip to keep from laughing because, honestly, who _didn’t_ know? They’re so obvious. Mikasa is either quite naive or one of _those_ people who try to ignore the obvious when it comes to women in relationships with women.

“Is there anything wrong with that?” Annie asks, frowning.

“No…” Mikasa shakes her head. “It makes me uncomfortable, though.”

Annie doesn’t say anything for a while and Mikasa launches into trying to defend herself, but everything flies over Annie’s head save for the words:

“It just makes me feel strange. I try to avoid it.” Regarding women together, of course.

“It can be fun, though,” Annie says. “Have you ever tried it?” She wants to laugh again. It’s unreal and unnatural how the conversation has progressed. And downright hilarious that Mikasa is so uptight that she’s drinking to forget that she saw her friends fucking. And a bit disheartening that she seems so bothered by the fact that they’re gay.

“Why would I try dating a woman if I’m straight?” Mikasa asks. “Should I ask gay women if they’ve tried dating men because it _can be fun_?”

Now Annie laughs, shaking her head. “No, it’s just that I think you might be curious.” Because Mikasa reminds her of high school and her first crush and how she’d tried to reason with herself.

And then suddenly they’re kissing because that feels easier to do than say anything and be held to it on Mikasa’s part. She’s breathless soon, but pulls away for only a moment before advancing again upon Annie.

Annie is stunned with her hands still at her side until Mikasa leans closer. Then her hands find Mikasa’s thighs, trailing up her smooth skin up to the waistband of black panties. She smirks against Mikasa’s lips when a gasp escapes them.

Mikasa thinks of Jean on her back, legs spread apart by Annie’s hands.

How did she get there?

She’s surprised by the noises that escape her, by how turned on she is by just the sight of Annie’s head between her thighs. Mikasa doesn’t want to look away. She wants to remember this moment as it happens, but her thoughts are all tangled somewhere between pleasure and guilt, Annie and Jean. This definitely shouldn’t be a thing.

She tilts her head back, feeling Annie’s tongue part her folds before sloppily lapping at them teasingly. This is the third time in total anyone has ever gone down on her. Mikasa pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and whimpers. She runs her fingers through Annie’s hair, tugging lightly.

“Don’t,” Mikasa murmurs, rocking her hips.

Annie quits her teasing, moving up Mikasa’s body to kiss her lips again as the fingers on her thighs trail down to her sex. Slim digits slip into her soaking core, feeling the soft walls clamp down on them in Mikasa’s nervousness. They curl slightly, searching for the spot that will wipe all thoughts from Mikasa’s mind.

Mikasa’s mouth drops open. Hot breaths are exchanged. She thinks for a moment that Annie is dangerous, a predator, and she’s devouring every bit of Mikasa that could ever think to protest or call this wrong. Another moan lays against her lips as Annie nips and licks at those wonderful lips while her fingers work between the lips between her legs, both of which left pink and swollen from the blonde’s eager mouth. And she can taste herself. The bittersweet tanginess of herself. She wonders how Annie tastes, but grows shy when she considers tasting the blonde right now.

Annie’s fingers pump in and out of Mikasa’s cunt, furious and wild. Her fingers bury themselves to the knuckles in burning silk. She watches Mikasa’s eyebrows draw together as her eyes roll back, before slipping down to kiss, lick, and suck at the skin of the girl’s neck. She doesn’t care that she’ll leave marks. She doesn’t want Mikasa to forget about this.

Mikasa’s fingers wrap around Annie’s wrist, but she’s not pushing her away. She just wants to feel Annie, to make sure this is real and the pleasure building isn’t just a dream. There’s still too much between them though. Her skirt and shirt. All fabric should be gone. She wants to feel bare burning skin against her own. But doing that would somehow make this too intimate. And that scares her beyond words.

But she’s already done too much. She doesn’t want to turn back.

Annie’s thumb thrums her clit, their lips hovering just barely apart from each other. This is unreal. She keeps thinking it. She’s fucking the same girl she’s been trying make submit to her for an entire semester. And know here Mikasa is writhing beneath her like a wanton whore. But there’s something endearing in the way Mikasa tries to be quiet, biting her lip. And the way she blushes, the timid yet wondrous expression as though she’s never been so vulnerable and satisfied. She just keeps getting wetter and wetter.

This won’t end well. Annie knows because everyone tells her to avoid straight girls, but right now Annie can’t see a single straight thing about Mikasa. Certainly not the wetness glistening on her fingers. Mikasa knows because she can already imagine how Jean would react if he found out.

But neither of them stop.


	2. Chapter 2

Jean starts the afternoon in the kitchen, humming and dancing along to the radio as he cooks. He smiles when he sees Mikasa trudge in. She’s still groggy and sluggish from the night before, but he can’t see into her mind to know that she’s also guilty. And he doesn’t know how Annie touched her or how she didn’t want to tell Annie to stop.

She pecks his lips, cutting off a line. A smile rises to her lips despite the general sense of self-loathing that fills her when he looks away casually. Yeah, he’s cute singing along to Elvis, but why’s she playing this game with him? Sleeping with someone else, waking up in his bed. What comes next? Does she tell him? Does she keep quiet?

She does not want to be quiet.

She wants to tell someone about last night (which really was this morning) if only to tell them that it was a stupid mistake and that she’s not like that because, fuck, if she’s like _that_ she doesn’t know what to think of herself. And she can’t be that way anyway because she’s with Jean and they’ve kissed and made love and… She’s not in love with him. But there’s a tenderness there.

Gray light streams in through thin white curtains. Rain drums incessantly against the windows. Wind whistles through the window panes. Mikasa sits quietly at the table, on a rickety chair Jean bought for five dollars (which was a bargain from the thrift shop down the street where they do the majority of their shopping). It’s a quiet sort of noisy day the way it always is in Jean’s apartment.

Another love song begins to play. Mikasa shifts uneasily in the chair, making it creak and groan softly beneath her weight. Is that all he has to listen to? Can’t he go back to listening to classic rock or something less mushy and soft? She feels hard and cold today. Yet warm and excited regardless of her guilt when she thinks of Annie.

“Do you work today?” Jean asks, turning down the volume on his phone.

“No, but I was thinking of just spending the day inside,” Mikasa says, shrugging noncommittally.

“I figured.” He grins and leans against the counter.

The front door opens and slams shut. As Mikasa winces, Marco calls out to Jean excitedly. He’s soaked to the bone, his hoodie a sopping mess of fabric over his dress pants and prim white button down. His hair clings to his face, freckled cheeks flushed.

“There’s a sale on apples at four down the block,” Marco says, his face splitting into a wide grin.

“You can’t seriously be that happy about _that_ ,” Mikasa murmurs, but gazes indulgently at him.

“We can’t all reel in tips with our tits,” Marco replies, his tone light.

“You didn’t come up with that.” Mikasa laughs. “Who told you that?”

“Ymir.” Marco blushes. “Said you’re a hit because you don’t wear bras.”

“She should mind her business,” Jean says, walking to the fridge tucked away in its corner.

Mikasa forces a smile and shakes her head, looking down at her hands tucked between her thighs. Her thoughts shift back to Ymir, to Krista, to the couch, to Annie. Annie’s hands on _her_ thighs, pushing them apart, on her hips, pulling her closer, beneath her shirt. The way she spoke. The way she looked up at Mikasa as though measuring her. How her perfume still clings to Mikasa’s clothes.

“Speaking of Ymir, Mikasa,” Jean begins.

Mikasa glances at him, her heart racing. Does he know? Does he know that she let Annie touch her the way Ymir touches Krista?

“I heard that you walked in on her going down on Krista and you didn’t have the decency to share the gory details with me.”

“ _Jean_ …” Marco groans. “They’re lesbians, not porn stars.”

“I know… It’s just… It’s hot,” Jean replies indignantly, waving his hands.

“You’re a disgusting hetero man,” Marco says, chuckling.

“I support the gay agenda by paying for porn once a month.”

Mikasa rolls her eyes and stands. She wishes she could make a joke out of the situation, but it’d be weird for her to be so excited by seeing two women together when she’s straight. Yes, straight. Because whatever happened with Annie was a one-time thing that only happened because she was bored and drunk.

If that was true, though, wouldn’t it be easier to tell her boyfriend about such a trivial thing? Would he react with a joke to that, too? Or would he look at her like she’d ruined his life with words and a mistake alone?

“As much as I’d like to stay, I really should go home,” Mikasa says. She stands still to let Jean press a parting kiss to her lips, and smiles at him when he pouts playfully as she backs away. “I’ll call you later.”

“With more details hopefully,” Jean says, as Mikasa turns away. “Like whether or not Ymir’s got a full-on bush or if she’s smooth down there.”

“Is there no in between with you?” Mikasa hears Marco ask.

“Have you met Ymir? There’s nothing in between about her.”

* * *

“Armin, I did something really stupid…”

Armin lifts his eyes slowly from his book to Mikasa who still has not looked at him. She’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, her hair still wrapped in a towel, water dripping down the side of her face and neck. She wipes away the tiny rivulets every few minutes or so.

He knows that look, has recognized it since she came in wearing the same clothes she left in. He just didn’t know when she’d break down and finally talk to him about whatever has caused the look. Perhaps she was just waiting for Eren to leave while she built up her courage. Try as she may to be honest with her brother, there are some things that she trusts only Armin with.

“And I can’t tell Jean because he’d probably break up with me,” she continues, tapping away on her laptop. “Which is the last thing I need right now. I really need to like him right now.”

Armin holds his tongue. It never fails to surprise him just how cold and calculating Mikasa can be in a relationship. She’s not at all like his other friends who babble on incessantly about the people they’re dating. She hardly ever mentions Jean and when she does, it’s not in a way that clearly says that she’s dating him. She twists her face up whenever someone calls him her boyfriend. The way she acts around Jean is just ice wrapped in warmth, but unrelentingly cool, unmelting. Still, Armin knows she must enjoy Jean to some extent because she’s stayed with him the longest.

“I had sex with someone else,” Mikasa admits.

“Does he know?” Armin puts his book down and breathes slowly to calm himself.

“No, I don’t want to hurt him by telling him.”

“Do you like the guy?”

“No,” she whispers. “But I’ve never felt the way I did when we were together with Jean or any other guy.”

They sit in silence, thinking for a while. Armin watches Mikasa curiously. He’s only seen her upset about sex once before. After she lost her virginity, when she said she couldn’t imagine ever enjoying sex. But she must’ve gotten over it because he’s never seen her shy away from advances.

“I cheated on Jean with a woman, Armin.”

Armin doesn’t say anything because he can tell by the way she frowns that anything he says would be wrong and would worsen her mood. Instead, he places a hand over hers and nods. Not because he doesn’t know what else to do, but because he understands and knows that she’ll need to be comforted again and again for a while because this won’t be easy for her. Things like this aren’t easy for a number of people, but it’ll be harder for someone like Mikasa.

“It was just once, though.” She meets Armin’s eyes and she knows he knows. That’s not true. They both know it. “It won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright,” Armin replies, his voice soft and sweet as though they’re sharing a kind secret.

“It’s not. What would people think of me if they knew?”

“You don’t care about people’s opinions,” Armin says.

“But this time I can’t justify what I’ve done.”

“You don’t have to justify liking women.”

Mikasa’s expression shifts, her face slowly hardening with Armin’s words. She pulls her hand away from his and glares at him. Why does it offend her so much that he thinks that’s the issue? It’s not. Of course, she doesn’t like women. She was just drunk. And bored. Not thinking straight.

“I’m not a lesbian,” she says, coolly.

“Bisexual?” Armin suggests.

“No.” Mikasa stands abruptly, gathering her things hastily. “None of that. I’m not interested in women. I thought you’d understand, but you obviously don’t. Just forget about it.”

“Are you serious?” Armin frowns.

“I’m just a normal straight person. It was a mistake.” Mikasa pauses in the doorway. “Don’t you dare tell Eren or anyone.”

* * *

 

Mikasa manages to spend two days completely free of anything related to two women being together until her curiosity catches up to her and she finds herself actually watching the video Jean forgot to close out of instead of immediately exiting the tab or making fun of Jean. She turns down the volume and holds her breath.

He’s in the shower, the water pouring in the background softly beneath his voice as he sings along to Frank Sinatra.

The video plays on, obviously an amateur exhibitionist venture, but arousing nonetheless. It surprises Mikasa how much just the sight of a woman’s fingers disappearing into the weeping sex of another turns her on, but soon she’s giving into the desire to sate the growing need between her thighs.

Her head tilts back as she explores her sex, fingers mimicking the rapid pumping of those in the video. She spreads her legs and exhales slowly and shakily, trying to be calm and quiet. But soon she’s remembering Annie’s tongue and fingers, the way she’d known exactly when and how to curl her fingers. Her tongue, her lips, the way Mikasa could taste herself when Annie kissed her long and deep.

She raises her wet fingers to her lips, switching hands, and tastes herself on them. A moan creeps from between her lips, muffled and needy. She swirls her tongue around her fingers. With her eyes closed, they could be Annie’s again. Fuck, she wants them to be Annie’s. They drop, slip beneath her shirt to fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples.

And all too soon it ends as soon as it began, her orgasm rolling through her like a wave and its echo. The shower is still running. Jean is still singing. She is still alone. There’s no Annie. Just guilt and the thought that she definitely shouldn’t be doing something like this.

She spends the rest of Jean’s shower reading articles about straight women who sleep with other women in an attempt to comfort herself. Could she do it? Marry a man and let him screw her if it meant whenever he went away on business trips she could sleep with another woman in his absence? Oh, God, what is she thinking? She couldn’t… Because she doesn’t want to sleep with women. No, not even Annie again.

She closes the laptop after clearing her searches and lays down to think. It’s not like her to be so bothered by herself and her desires mainly because she’s managed to get by ignoring them and brushing them off. But then there’s the Ymir situation, Annie, what Armin said, the stupid articles that she wants so badly to relate to even though she knows there’s no way any of those women are straight. She scoffs at the thought.

But _their_ sexuality isn’t her problem.

_Am I gay? Bisexual?_

She thinks it over and over again. Why does it feel both right and wrong to consider herself to be something else? Other women, she thinks, must think about joining their boyfriends in the shower instead of wishing their rival was in bed beside them between thoughts questioning their sexuality.

How wonderful is it that it had to be Annie of all people? Mikasa thinks she wouldn’t be so bothered if it had been Ymir. Fuck, not Ymir, because Ymir is definitely not straight and she would tell people. What if Annie tells? What if she’s sitting with her friends and laughing about how she not only won several awards for her essay on the importance of radical feminists in the women’s rights movement but also made Mikasa cum three times in less than an hour?

“I’m being irrational,” Mikasa mutters, turning beneath the covers.

“About what?”

“Nothing.” Mikasa turns to see Jean drying himself off by the door.

“Marco went out,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “So we’ve got the place to ourselves.”

Mikasa smiles and sits up, her movements rehearsed. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy sex with Jean; it’s just that it’s best when it’s dark and the lights are off and the only part of him she can feel is his dick. And even after that, she has to shower and spend an hour trying to distract herself. (It takes twenty minutes if she actually got to cum, but it’s rare with her even though Jean is without a doubt her most considerate partner.)

“We should watch a movie,” she says.

“Yeah… That’s not really where I was going with this, but alright.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a [tumblr](https://oovoojavier.tumblr.com/) account (ages ago but that's life) so if y'all like aesthetic and want to chat me up about the good gays, there you go
> 
> Also this chapter is super short considering how long it took to write and it was hard to write

Mikasa pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and gazes out of the window.

Sunlight warms her skin even through the glass, a contrast to the cold of the apartment. Her room is neat, in a chaotic way. Everything sits where it belongs, and, yet, no amount of organization could hope to make sense of the clean clutter. Pen caps marked with teeth marks litter the floor at her feet and she rolls one beneath her toes. The boys are moving around outside of their rooms. She can hear Eren talking, but not what he’s saying.

She sighs and looks down at her toes. The pink polish has begun to chip, just like the polish on her nails now bitten down in sudden bouts of deep consideration that fill her body to the brim with white noise and nonsense. She knows she shouldn’t think about it too much because it makes her stomach sink, but she knows there’s a limit to not thinking about it. Sooner or later, she’ll run into Annie and she’ll have to confront herself.

And now there’s nothing left to do but think. It’s Sunday. She’s done all of her work ahead of time and she lacks a solid plan for the day to distract herself. Jean is working, she can barely look at Eren because she’s afraid that he knows somehow, and she doesn’t want to be around Armin and his useless assumptions. He’s smart, sure, but, geez, what a stupid fucking thing to suggest… _If_ she was gay, she’s sure she would’ve known before getting drunk and seduced.

Which leaves her with Krista, who (for some godforsaken reason) is suddenly very interested in shopping with Mikasa. She cringes every time she thinks of her tentative agreement to help Krista find a dress for some bland gathering of rich, old men who will without a doubt eyefuck her until she finds an excuse to leave. Mikasa would feel bad for Krista if she could separate her from the thought of Ymir going down on her.

_Fuck…_

Why did she agree? Of course, she can weasel her way out of it if she puts her mind to it, but is it really worth it? Who knows, maybe Krista really does just want to hang out and compare dresses. But what if she wants to talk about _that_? Or what if she knows about Annie?

God, do lesbians have some weird telepathic ability to know when one has slept with a straight girl ( _maybe_ , a bisexual girl, because that’s a bit easier to stomach for Mikasa, but that’s only a tentative maybe)? Or maybe Annie bragged? That’s like her, to rub her feats in Mikasa’s face by bringing them up to all of the people they know.

The phone rings. Footsteps. More footsteps and ringing. The click of the phone being removed from the receiver and then Eren’s voice. He speaks softly, but not as though he’s trying not to be heard. Mikasa can imagine him hunched over the table, fiddling with a new hole in his sweatshirt emblazoned with MU’s emblem. He has a habit of leaning forward even when he’s not playing a game.

Mikasa sighs. The world goes on regardless of how she feels today.

* * *

Annie hates shopping, but she’s almost entirely sure there’s no way she’s going home without getting something out of Mikasa. She only agreed to come because she’s wanted to see Mikasa again. If Krista would just disappear for more than two seconds. There’s hardly any time between dresses to get much of a response out of Mikasa. Like now.

Krista dances out in a pink dress, looking around for Mikasa’s opinion; Annie would offer the same noncommittal shrug and grunt combo. She takes her chances when she spies the top of Mikasa’s head across the store. Turning slowly, she nods toward Annie.

“It’s…” Annie glances toward where Mikasa disappeared. “Nice.”

“Thank you,” Krista replies, curtly. And then, softly, “What is with you and Mikasa?”

“Nothing.” Shrug, grunt, awkward silence.

“Annie!” Krista gasps, her eyebrows jumping. “She’s straight, though.”

“She _is_ straight and nothing is going on between us,” Annie says, folding her arms over her chest.

“Jean is so in love with her, too,” Krista murmurs to herself, shaking her head, as she turns away.

Mikasa makes her way slowly back to Annie, trying to seem as aloof as possible. The act would be laughable if not for the chaos taking over her mind. She glances up at the light fixtures, into dull, dim bulbs. Her fingers slip between silken strands of hair as she inhales deeply. This is impossible. This is impossibly wrong.

“I’m not,” Mikasa begins. “ _Like you_. I don’t like women.”

“Relax, Ackerman,” Annie replies, smirking. “You don’t need to like women to enjoy having your pussy eaten.”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Annie…” Mikasa turns away to hide her burning cheeks. “Do you think before you speak?”

“Skip the innocent shit, Mikasa,” Annie murmurs, shaking her head. “I think we both know fucking each other could help us both…”

“I’m not a lesbian,” Mikasa says, believing herself less every time she says it.

“But you’ve been thinking about me since the party, right?” Annie smirks.

“What party?” Krista asks, offering an armful of clothes to Annie.

“Last week,” Annie says.

“Oh, last week…” Krista nods. “Let’s get lunch.”

“I have plans,” Annie says, shaking her head. “And I think Mikasa does, too.”

* * *

 

Annie doesn’t hesitate. The moment the door closes behind Mikasa her hands reach to tear fabric away from a lithe body.

“Roommates,” Mikasa whispers as Annie’s lips meet her clavicle. She waits a moment, listening for the noise of one of the boys, and relaxes when she’s sure they’re alone.

“Who are they, again?” Annie mumbles without ceasing her attack on Mikasa’s throat.

“It doesn’t matter…” Mikasa pulls away, though she’d rather not. “We need to talk.”

Annie pulls back, letting her hands fall limp at her sides. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and gazes boredly at the flushed woman before her. It’s obvious that Mikasa is waiting for a response, but what can she really say in this sort of situation? The last thing Annie wants to feign interest in is the history of Mikasa’s orientation.

They stand watching each other for what feels like hours, but is really only a gathering of minutes.

“You can’t tell anyone about this.” Mikasa looks down at her feet and then around.

“Relax,” Annie says. “I know how this goes. You’re not serious about me. I’m not serious about you. It’s just sex, Mikasa; it doesn’t mean anything.”

 _But is it really only sex?_ Surely there’s more to the fact of Mikasa wanting this than either of them are saying. Sex is one thing. Sex with a woman is another. Mikasa has slept with a number of men without this level of hesitance. But there’s something about Annie that makes her head swim. Not only is she a woman, she's also _Annie Leonhardt_ , the woman she’s been locked in an academic battle with for the entirety of her academic career.

“Do you mean that?” Mikasa asks, knowing that Annie doesn’t really understand. “It’s only sex?”

“Mikasa…” Annie recognizes that tone and the weight of words that shouldn’t be nearly as heavy as they are. But who is she to try to worry about what exactly goes on in Mikasa’s head? “It’s really just sex. You’re making this too serious.”

“I’m not a lesbian,” Mikasa says. “I’m with Jean.”

“Well,” Annie begins, frowning. “You’re with me right now. I want you. You want me. Just shut up and let me fuck you.”

So they don’t speak again. Not when Mikasa leads Annie to her room. Or when she strips slowly out of her clothes. Not when Annie’s eyes roam over her body like it’s the most divine creation. Or when Annie’s hands follow the trail of her eyes from Mikasa’s breasts to her hips to the neatly trimmed patch of black pubic hair.

Annie leaves her clothes on. It’s not that she doesn’t want to take them off and feel Mikasa’s bare skin against hers, but, rather, that she knows this game. A straight girl gets curious and Annie indulges that. To the straight girl, she’s nothing more than a mouth, fingers, a few silicone helpers. Annie understands that better than anyone and she won’t complain. There’s a piece of her that feels so incredibly unworthy whenever she’s touched by a woman. She tried before to ease into the role and her body turned to stone. Every caress felt as though she was crumbling slowly.

Mikasa’s fingers smell faintly of citrus from the oranges she peeled for lunch when they met up with Krista. She washed her hands, but scents like that tend to cling for much longer than what seems possible. Her hair is impossibly soft. Her eyes are curious, delighted, afraid… She turns her head when Annie leans in to kiss her lips and closes her eyes, those beautiful conflicted eyes.

Annie says nothing, but instead kisses Mikasa’s neck, her hands finding the swell of soft hips. Lean muscle from years of sports flexes beneath her calloused fingers. She has Mikasa lay on her stomach. They both close their eyes as Annie shifts back, pulling Mikasa’s hips up. That’s a sight Annie will definitely commit to memory. Pale, supple skin, thighs parted, back arched just the right way so that her sex peeks at Annie.

“You’re wet,” Annie murmurs, her body warming.

Mikasa whimpers a low soft sound that excites Annie beyond words. She doesn’t know yet just how amazing she looks. She clutches her pillow as Annie’s fingers part the folds of her sex slowly. They’re rough and know exactly where to go. Circling the wanton bud, slipping down to dip into a silken sea that closes in around them.

Time ticks slowly by. Mikasa is amazed by the sight of the slender wrist, the flushed palm that cups her most sensitive place. The digits pull away. How wet lips burn a trail down her spine. She’s moaning softly: unintelligible and sweet. Pleading, pleading. There are wet fingers on her thigh, a tongue between them. That feels like Heaven. How can something so wrong breed so pure a feeling of pleasure? There are tears in her eyes now.

Annie hears the anguished sobs that punctuate an orgasm. She stops, but Mikasa begs her to continue. They both know that this cannot be thought of as a ‘just’ sort of thing. It’s more than just sex or a mistake when they’re both sober.

So they go on that way until Mikasa’s room is cast in the shadow of evening slipping into night. Mikasa says nothing as Annie pulls away for the last time. How can she feel both so satisfied and guilty? Her red eyes pierce the darkness and try to read the nothingness that has made a home on Annie’s face.

“I don’t think we should do this again,” Mikasa whispers.

“If that’s what you want…” Annie trails off, looks away. When it seems that she has nothing else to say, she meets Mikasa’s eyes in the darkness and says, “Like I said, it’s just sex, right?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Mikasa sighs and leans against the counter, her gaze traveling without any true destination until she sees Ymir wiping tables. She wonders exactly what Ymir and Krista have going on. Fucking? Dating? Something like what she has with Annie? But does anyone really have something quite like that? She clears her throat and looks away.

“Where have you been?” Marco asks, wiping the counter.

“I’ve been here since noon,” Mikasa replies.

“You know what I mean…” He raises his eyes to Mikasa’s profile just in time to see her frown and then shake her head.

“Busy with work and clubs and family stuff,” she murmurs. Mikasa stands and stretches. “Boring shit, in general.”

“Of course, of course,” Marco replies, shrugging.

When Mikasa looks away, he takes the moment to look at her. The skin beneath her eyes is dark, two faded crescent moons of violet skin. She looks… tired. And, yet, more than that. A mental and physical fatigue. He looks down at the counter, not too concerned with his best friend’s girlfriend’s current mental state.

“Has Jean been sulking?” she asks, even though she knows the truth. She can practically feel him pacing around his apartment.

“You’re a sadist.” Marco is serious, but he says it like he’s not.

“I’m a human,” Mikasa replies, waving her hand dismissively. “I need time to myself, like anyone else.”

“So, to you, time involves ignoring your boyfriend for days at a time?” Marco scoffs.

“I could do worse.” Her gaze lingers on his face for a moment too long.

Marco doesn’t hate Mikasa. In fact, when he can get over her general lack of any emotional response toward Jean, or anyone, she’s decent. She doesn’t make him leave the apartment when he smokes. She doesn’t ask unnecessary questions. She doesn’t want to sleep with him. But there’s something terribly unnerving about how little she cares for Jean, who cares so much for her.

Mikasa wants to mention Annie and the guilt building within her. But how could she possibly be honest about such a thing with Marco? He’d tell Jean and that would ruin everything. And what really is there to ruin but a one-sided romance, anyway? Well, there’s the large overlap of friends they share that she also doesn’t want to ruin as a result.

“Jean will be fine,” Mikasa says, dismissively. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not into hurting my boyfriend.”

“That’s not what I said,” Marco says, looking away.

“I know what people say about me,” she snaps, because there’s something about avoiding the truth that bothers her more considering her current position. “I know that you all think I’m a cold bitch because I don’t fucking bother him all the time or wanna hold his fucking hand in public, but that’s just how I am. I’m not changing. I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not.”

By now Ymir is looking at them because Mikasa’s voice is too loud to ignore, and all the color has drained from Marco’s face when he looks at Mikasa and sees there are tears in her eyes. It’s becoming clear that whatever it is that she’s on about likely has nothing to do with Jean. But what could possibly break someone like her and bring her to such a point? And what point is she trying to make?

“I like what I like,” Mikasa says, nearly yelling now. “And that’s fine. I don’t need to commit to just  _ one _ way of doing things to fit neatly into a box. There has to be room to move.  _ Fuck _ , everyone is just so goddamn  _ rigid _ about every-”

“Clock out, Mikasa,” comes the strained voice of their manager, Levi, from the kitchen. “Take the rest of the night off.”

Mikasa stares at the wall between them and says nothing. She bites her trembling lip. Looking down, her face flushes with embarrassment because she can’t believe that she said  _ that _ , any of it. Or that she has wet cheeks from crying. Or that Marco and Ymir are looking at her with eyes that seem to know something about her, some deeply personal thing. She turns away and gathers herself before leaving.

It’s late and it’s not like she’s really losing hours. She considers calling Jean, but his brand of comfort feels impossibly stifling. Armin doesn’t understand. He’s too quick to want to connect dots and come out with  _ his _ idea of what those connections mean. And Eren… he ought to be left to his old sweatpants and video games.

She texts Annie, whose number she has because they were in the same study group her freshman year, Annie’s sophomore. With Annie, it’s easy to forget. It was the first time when the spontaneity was just right and neither of them cared much about anything but how good it felt to please and be pleased.

Mikasa:  _ Let’s hang out. _

Annie, a few minutes later:  _ Fuck? _

Mikasa:  _ Pick me up on 5th _

Annie, even more minutes later:  _ 10 _

Mikasa counts the minutes until Annie arrives, down the block from the diner, looking bored. She gets into the car and Anne doesn’t speak, but instead starts driving. Mikasa sighs in relief as Annie turns up the volume. Something slow that reminds Mikasa of what she’s doing and how wrong it is. It would be right to end things with Jean, but doing that would give whatever this is with Annie too much importance and weight.

“Your place?” Annie asks, glancing at Mikasa.

“Let’s just do it here.”

“In my car where we could get caught?” Annie scoffs. “Being called a sex offender isn’t my thing.”

“And fucking straight girls is?” Mikasa murmurs, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to her temples.

“ _ You _ texted  _ me _ , Ackerman…”

Mikasa shakes her head, running her fingers through her hair. She rests her head against the window and feels the car vibrate. How can Annie be so casual?

“So, this is the last time again?” Annie asks, smirking to hide her eagerness to be with Mikasa. 

What is it about girls who couldn’t possibly want her that excites her so much? Why come back to Mikasa who feels like a blade? She knows there’s nothing casual here, but she’s drawn to Mikasa. She wishes she could brush it off as nothing, but when she thinks about it she has to admit that sex with Mikasa is simply better. There’s just something about the way how Mikasa moves, how her eyes slip out of focus when she cums, how her kiss tasted that first time, how her skin tastes every time.

“I don’t know,” Mikasa says. “I’ll tell you when I get bored.”

“Are we going to your place?” Annie asks. She glances at the time and sighs. She has two exams coming up that she needs to study for. In fact, she was studying when Mikasa texted her. Yet, here she is now, disregarding her education for a girl who doesn’t even really want her.

“No, Eren’s in there,” Mikasa says. “Can’t we just go to your place?”

“And run into your boyfriend?” Annie shakes her head.

“Why’s he there?”

“I don’t know. Study group or something,” Annie replies, shrugging noncommittally. It’s not like she wanted to stay long enough to ask him about his day when she was leaving to presumably have sex with his girlfriend.

They fall into a long, tense silence. It feels wrong to be so close and so civil. Mikasa avoids Annie’s eyes without any pretense of not attempting to ignore Annie. Annie doesn’t actively seek out Mikasa’s eyes, but she needs some sign of what to do.

“Am I supposed to read your mind?” Annie asks, after a while.

“Let’s just go to a parking lot or something,” Mikasa says, finally looking at Annie.

Annie looks down at her hands on the steering wheel and draws in a deep breath. Is it worth it to make herself so malleable to the same woman who she has fought to overcome for years? Would it be easier if she at least knew Mikasa wanted her? Annie doesn’t understand what she is to Mikasa. A phase? A stand-in for a selfish lover? Something to fill the time? Stress relief? This bit of nothing must be  _ something _ . She wants to know the reason behind this faux casual affair.

Mikasa leans toward Annie and lets her lips brush against the cold, soft skin of Annie’s cheek. Her lips trail down, traveling the curve of Annie’s jaw, and then further down. She wants to kiss Annie’s lips, but she’s afraid of what that’d mean. She takes Annie’s hand and guides it to her thigh, and then she waits.

“Mikasa,” Annie murmurs. “I’m driving.”

If she heard, Mikasa doesn’t acknowledge it. Annie glances at Mikasa out of the corner of her eye as her stomach twists. God, she can feel how hot Mikasa’s skin is beneath her skirt. Why does Mikasa wear skirts like that so often? They’re not an invitation, but more so a reminder.

“You should go home…”

“I don’t want to,” Mikasa whispers, gazing pleadingly at Annie.

Annie wonders if Mikasa knows just how powerful those eyes can be. Does she have any idea how they’re melting all that Annie is? Annie’s body burns and quite suddenly she wants to give in and let Mikasa ruin them both. She says nothing as she drives to the same abandoned lot that she frequented when she was younger and only just learning how cruel beautiful girls could be. This is only a repeated lesson

Mikasa smiles as the car stops and looks toward the buildings she can see beginning some yards away, peeking over the hill that leads down to them. There’s another, abandoned building beside the lot and another car parked at the opposite end. Annie’s windows aren’t terribly tinted, but it’s late and it’s not like there’s anyone else to notice what they’re doing.

In the space of a few moments: Annie’s turns on some college radio station and the music is LOUD, Mikasa’s breasts are are bare because, yes, she doesn’t wear a bra beneath that simple, white turtleneck, and they’re entangled in the backseat.

For the first time, Mikasa touches Annie. Her hands travel on their own and then stop when she sees how wide Annie’s eyes become and feels fingers wrap around her wrist, pausing the hand on Annie’s thigh.

“What are you doing?” Annie asks, frowning.

“Touching you…” Mikasa pulls her hand away. “Or is that not okay?”

“No,” Annie says, softly, averting her gaze. “It’s not okay.”

Mikasa feels Annie’s fingers beneath her pants, slipping between wet folds of skin, and her stomach twists unpleasantly, though it feels nice to be touched by Annie. She doesn’t know where to put her hands anymore. She’s not used to not being allowed to touch someone, especially not a lover.

“What’s wrong?” Annie sits back, furrowing her brow.

“I just…” Mikasa sighs, rolling her eyes. She’s not going to tell Annie of all people that she just wants to try touching another woman because her high school escapades are blurs and she’s not sure that the excitement she feels when she recalls those moments is true. (She’d been drunk, after all.)

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Annie groans.

“Why can’t I touch you?”

“Why do you care?” Annie sighs and shakes her head. “You didn’t wanna touch me before.” And she has rules regarding who’s allowed to touch her and where and these are especially important when dealing with women like Mikasa. Albeit, most don’t want to touch her.

Mikasa sighs and sits up, the mood gone, but says nothing because she doesn’t want to say that she just wants to  _ try _ touching a woman. Sex with another woman doesn’t come in little samples like food samples at the mall; people - _ women _ \- don’t work like that.

“I was just curious,” Mikasa says. “I didn’t think you were hiding anything.”

There’s something about that sentence that crawls beneath Annie’s skin. Who’s hiding anything but Mikasa? Annie has nothing to lose, no reputation at stake. She’s a lesbian and she’s fine with it. It’s Mikasa who’s preoccupied with appearances and hiding this. That’s why she’s still with Jean. That’s why she’s sure she’s straight.

“It’s because you’re not special to me,” Annie says. “I’m not like you. I don’t like getting fucked by people who I know don’t give a shit about me.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've reached the height of gay because i was watching the l word fanvids while writing this

Jean’s lips brush against Mikasa’s cheek as she turns her head to avoid kissing him.

She smells of alcohol and the perfume he bought her… That was a long time ago, the buying of the perfume and the subsequent quiet sort of appreciation she’d responded with. She allows herself to be held in a similar way. 

They’re sitting on the couch beside Marco and he’s trying not to seem as uncomfortable as he is, but they’re too drunk to notice anyway. Marco watches Jean grab Mikasa’s cheeks and force her to face him. She laughs, but Marco sees the brief flicker of disgust on her features as the kiss ends, and he says nothing. He keeps his mouth shut because Jean repels anything he views as slander toward Mikasa.

“Alright, guys, we’re still here,” Eren says. “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t fondle my sister like that in front of me.”

Mikasa stands, abandoning Jean’s lap in favor of the empty cushion beside him. It feels like an act and she’s long since gone into a mechanical mode of doing things, reading reactions like data and correcting her method where the need arises. It helps that she’s drunk, though, because she wouldn’t be able to get through their movie night without the lightness of being drunk.

She bites her lip as she pretends to focus on the movie. Jean’s hand is on her thigh, moving upward. Annie’s words echo in her mind even though it’s been weeks since they last spoke. She’d like to pretend the days are a vague number, as though this period of time is so unimportant she doesn’t care enough to keep track of it, but she knows it’s eighteen days since they spoke in the car.

The thought makes her throat tighten. It’s one thing to quietly be aware of one’s lack of worth, and an entirely different thing to be forced to acknowledge it. And she’s usually the one to say it to some expired lover.

Mikasa looks around and the room that is full of life feels bleak and drained of even a hint of liveliness. She pushes Jean’s hand back down to her knee. His fingers feel too warm, too rough, too much a part of him and too little a part of  _ her _ . She wants his hands to be Annie’s.

Armin would not usually care enough to pay attention to Mikasa and Jean, but he can’t help but try to figure out from the way how they interact how much of what they share is real. How does Jean not notice how Mikasa always hesitates to reciprocate his affection? It would be nearly comical if not for the genuine disgust that crosses Mikasa’s features sometimes or the fact that Jean really isn’t a bad guy.

Mikasa must know that, Armin thinks, because Jean softens for her. His bragging becomes innocent and he looks to her with a pure desire to make her happy, to please her. Even Armin can see how Jean’s obnoxiousness becomes endearing when he tries. And it’s like trying to make a brick wall bend with just one’s hands. Mikasa doesn’t budge for the most part, but Jean doesn’t stop trying. Armin supposes Jean keeps trying because he relies on the few moments in which she actually gives in.

Of course, Mikasa has been avoiding Armin since their last talk and he suggested she might not be straight, so he can’t exactly ask her why she bothers to drag Jean along. The thought makes his throat tighten and he clenches his jaw, hating her for a moment. She wouldn’t have to come out or come to terms with herself to just let Jean go.

It’s by chance that Armin gets the chance to speak alone with Jean. Had he not been drunk already from the beers Eren kept pushing off on him, he might’ve taken left the moment he’d grabbed another beer from the fridge, smiling politely at Jean as they passed. Had Mikasa not asked Jean to check the counter for his keys, he wouldn’t have gone to the kitchen. If Armin was not already thumbing the tab to open the can in his hand, he wouldn’t have been able to find the words. But he is thumbing the tab and the words come as easily as the rain comes to spring.

“You know she’s cheating on you, right?” Armin murmurs, because he pities Jean.

Jean furrows his brow, forcing a smile. He doesn’t drink when he knows he’ll be driving home and, since Eren’s around, it’d be awkward to stay the night. Leaning against the doorframe, he shakes his hand and the keys clink.

“What’re you talking about, dude?” Jean asks. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re not stupid…” Armin looks down, suddenly nervous. “I know it’s none of my business, but you’re in love with a wall.”

Jean’s never had any reason to consider Armin to be a liar or anything of the sort. Even now, he seems too timid to lie, and Jean can see when Armin looks up again that he’s trying to recall something.

“She told me about the party,” Armin says. He wants to continue, but he hears Mikasa call Jean.

The words hang in the space between Jean and Armin, ugly, bitter things that Jean would like to deny, but can’t. They feel solid. He can imagine them. The party. How she was tired and he left her alone. Whose room was that? There was so much time for her to do something with someone. Jean was drunk, too happy, too sure in their relationship because Mikasa never seemed to be looking at anyone else.

Mikasa calls Jean’s name again, asking if he found the keys.

He tears his gaze from Armin. Why would Armin lie about that? Jean turns, shaking his head and laughing it off, but he’s not as sure as he sounds. Mikasa’s always distant, but she’s been even more so these last few weeks. Even Marco - quiet and understanding Marco - can’t and won’t defend her this time.

Jean sees Mikasa standing at the end of the hall. She’s holding his jacket and looking expectantly at him, and he thinks like he always does when he sees her that she’s ethereal, an angel sent to Earth by God Himself to be appreciated by people. She’s beautiful and to think that makes something heavy settle on his chest. But Jean smiles, anyway, and nods.

“They were on the counter,” Jean says.

“Text me when you get in, okay,” Mikasa says, smiling at him. It’s such a rare gesture that he usually appreciates it, but tonight he’s watching her and he wants to believe everything is real, but he knows better.

“I will,” he says. His voice is soft the way it always is for her because he can’t bring himself to be anything but warm and smooth and gentle with her even after what Armin said.

“I work tomorrow, but we can meet up after.” She holds out his jacket.

“I’ve gotta study for the Soc exam.” Jean takes his jacket and puts it on.

They walk together to the door where Jean brushes Mikasa’s hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers.

She smiles and says nothing.

* * *

Annie feels, at times, as though she is flying too close to the sun, the wax of her wings melting. She needs these brief moments of reprieve from Mikasa to let the wax dry. Otherwise, she might find herself sinking and then hurtling toward the sea to be swallowed.

And, yet, now that she’s come so close to Mikasa, a flight away from her feels somehow less exhilarating. She realizes that she’s always been falling, and maybe it was the sun that held her above the clouds. Not that Mikasa is fond of her or that she is fond of Mikasa because that’s not it. She likes Mikasa’s body, likes how touching Mikasa makes her feel, but she doesn’t like Mikasa at all.

Which is exactly why she loses her breath when she sees Mikasa alone outside of the library one night. Annie’s on her way home after a particularly harrowing study group. She starts to greet Mikasa, walk over and talk to her, and then she remembers that the last time she spoke to Mikasa, she genuinely hurt her.

Annie hadn’t expected Mikasa to react so badly to the truth. For the most part, Mikasa hid her disappointment and Annie wouldn’t have noticed if Mikasa hadn’t spared her that one parting look that couldn’t hide the way how her eyes shone in the moonlight.

Mikasa runs her fingers through her hair and sighs when she notices someone approaching her out of the corner of her eye. Something settles on her heart when she recognizes Annie. Then her heart resumes its pace, too fast and she wonders if Annie can hear it.

“Hey,” Mikasa says.

“Waiting for someone?” Annie asks, shoving her hands into her pockets.

“No, I was just thinking.” Mikasa shakes her head, smiling wryly because the situation could be amusing if someone else was in it.

“Wow, that is really emo, Ackerman,” Annie replies. She hesitates, knowing that her timing is terrible, but for some unfathomable reason desperate to spend time with Mikasa again. “Do you want a ride to your place? I could put on some old Fall Out Boy songs that way you can really  _ feel _ what you’re thinking.”

Mikasa smiles and shakes her head, but agrees to a ride anyway. She looks up in time to see a new warmth in Annie’s eyes and it sends a thrill through her. An innocent sort of thrill.  For a moment, she wants to hold Annie’s hand, to pepper her rosy cheeks with kisses, to smooth down the hairs that stick out from beneath her hat, over her scarf. And then she brushes off the thought, thinking it’s just the result of not going on enough dates with Jean.

They walk silently to Annie’s car and then Annie complains a bit about her study group as the heat kicks in, but falls silent as she turns on the radio. Mikasa watches Annie’s fingers as they curl around the steering wheel. Her gaze slips up to Annie’s face in profile. The curve of her forehead, her pale eyelashes, the harsh rise of the bridge of her nose, the flared, narrow nostrils, the thin, but soft upper lip, and the plush lower lip. Mikasa touches her own lips and looks away.

“I’m sorry,” Mikasa says. “I didn’t mean to push you about your boundaries.”

“It’s fine.” Annie shrugs, glances at Mikasa. “You didn’t know.”

“Annie…”

“Hmm?”

“How’d you know you were…  _ you know _ ?” Mikasa keeps her eyes on the road ahead of them, but sees Annie shift out of the corner of her eye.

“At a sleepover. My friend had broken up with her boyfriend.” Annie thinks of Jean and pauses. Should she be telling a girl who will most likely fade quickly out of her life something so personal? But there’s some calming thing about Mikasa that makes even the dumbest idea seem fine and this is, by far, Annie’s dumbest idea. “She’s straight, but I saw stars when we kissed.”

“Have you ever slept with a guy?”

“Would it turn you on if I had?”

Mikasa shrugs and shakes her head. For once, she’s not thinking of sex while alone with Annie. She’s curious, trying to find out the signs to be sure they don’t belong to her.

“It’s okay,” Annie says. “Being a lesbian. Of course, some people are assholes, but I’m not ashamed of myself or anything. I’m happy that I can be open about who I love.”

“Man, you’re really trying to sell it.” Mikasa smiles at Annie, that rare, beautiful smile. “Is this the gay agenda? Do you want me to be  _ a gay _ ?”

“God, shut up, Ackerman.” Annie laughs and meets Mikasa’s eyes. “I’m just saying that it’s not all suffering and shit. Especially when you find the right person.”

“It doesn’t really matter, though,” Mikasa says. “I mean, I’ve got Jean and I’m not gay.”


	6. Chapter 6

Mikasa, in hindsight, should not have been so surprised by her position when she realized it. One friendly conversation had somehow turned into a reason to want to be around Annie. Mikasa found herself, for the week after, hoping for thirty-second run-ins and rides home that could never amount to more than knowing smiles. Of course, though, she hadn’t seen Annie since that night.

She leans across counter just to be closer to Annie, taking her time with her order and watching Annie’s fingers drum along the countertop. Mikasa tucks her hair behind her ear (a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by Annie) and glances over at the pastries. Behind the glass, under the pale light, they’re an assortment of colors and a sugar rush.

“I don’t know what I’m in the mood for,” Mikasa murmurs. The shop is empty; she doesn’t feel bad about taking so long.

“Cupcake?”

“I don’t really like the icing,” she says.

“You could scrape it off.” Annie walks away to look at some of the cupcakes.

“It leaves a bit of a residue.” Mikasa looks at Annie’s hands, the short, pink nails, the slightly calloused fingertips.

“You could lick it off,” Annie suggests, looking up in time to catch Mikasa’s gaze. She pulls her hands away. “I know how much you like having sweet things licked.”

Mikasa’s eyes widen for a second before she catches her own surprise. But no amount of feigned stoicism can rid her cheeks of their sudden tinge. Biting her lip, she can’t help but think of Annie’s suggestion.

“How about a muffin?” Annie smiles at Mikasa’s brief, but lingering reaction.

Mikasa’s phone vibrates in her hand. A text from Eren, who’s by now getting impatient because it’s been ten minutes and he only wanted a brownie. Mikasa sighs, forgetting to hide her disappointment as she reads the text in which Eren threatens to leave her. He won’t, but the point’s taken.

“No, I’ll just get another brownie,” Mikasa replies, meeting Annie’s eyes.

Annie wonders if it was Jean whose text drove away Mikasa’s desire to linger. It wouldn’t be surprising. When he comes over to her place, he’s usually texting Mikasa, trying to get her attention. He’s a bit like a puppy. Annie thought it was amusing before, but right now the only thing she feels while remembering his behavior is irritation. She collects Mikasa’s money and they don’t speak much more after that until Mikasa reaches the door.

“Come over tonight,” Mikasa calls over her shoulder.

The boys will be out to see the latest box office hit featuring aliens and a confusingly simple storyline. And that means Mikasa has a good chunk of time to spend having all of her worries fucked away.

* * *

Annie leans over Mikasa, and she seems to take over the entire bed.

Mikasa is always beautiful, but she’s a dream when she’s enjoying herself. Her hair is on the pillow, a curtain of ink across a pink background. Her eyes are closed, her lips moving with soft whimpers and pleas as her cheek presses into the plush pillow. The curve of her spin is enticing as her back gives way to the smooth curve of her ass. Then there’s the bit of pinkness peeking out from between her thighs.

It turns Annie on just knowing that this is winning. Has this always been the goal?  To get Mikasa to submit to her this way? She watches her fingers disappear, swallowed by Mikasa’s desire. The knuckles rest against flesh, the free fingers curled in toward the fist.

“You’re so good at that,” Mikasa mumbles, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of digits moving slowly in her.

Annie pauses, surprised that Mikasa is saying anything coherent. It feels… Different. Sex with Mikasa is admittedly more than just enjoyable, but this is somehow better. To be talked to. Annie hadn’t realized it before, but the other times had felt as though Mikasa was trying very hard to ignore the fact of Annie’s personhood. Womanhood? Yes, womanhood. Annie laughs and sits back because she doesn’t know how else to react.

Mikasa’s eyes open to catch Annie’s usually cold face warmed by amusement. She smiles, even though she doesn’t fully understand what amused Annie. But she likes the sound of Annie’s laughter, soft and inviting. She reaches behind her to pat Annie’s thigh before sitting up and kissing her.

Annie tastes like mint gum and tea. Her lips are slightly chapped from the cold, but still soft and forgiving. Quick to kiss back, her hesitation barely registers for Mikasa, and even that is more of a product of surprise than it is a product of distaste.

Thinking for a moment that this is impossibly good, Annie knows without a doubt that something is changing in her. When they part, Mikasa feels warmer, and guides Annie’s hand back to her sex. She leans forward and face disappears beneath her hair, swallowed by plush pillows.

“What’s so funny?” Mikasa asks.

“Nothing,” Annie replies, and she ducks down before Mikasa can continue, her mouth opening and accepting Mikasa’s cunt as though it’s the finest meal ever presented to her.

Mikasa moans loudly, clinging to her pillows. Guilt lingers at the corners of her mind, asking her why she’s so excited to be touched by Annie when she can’t reach comfort when touching Jean.

Annie imagines how Mikasa must look, hips rocking, chest heaving, cheeks flushed. She sits up, letting her fingers replace her mouth. Her lips are wet, shining with the proof of how much Mikasa enjoys being touched by a woman. A hand travels up Mikasa’s thigh, along her spine, grips one pale shoulder momentarily, and then deft fingers sweep away inky strands of hair so that cool eyes can gaze at delicate features twisting with pleasure.

“ _ Annie _ ,” Mikasa moans, keeping her eyes shut tightly.

“I know,” Annie murmurs. “I know.”

And Mikasa repeats Annie’s name again and again until it sounds and feels as natural as breathing. And Annie kisses Mikasa’s back, her shoulders, the nape of her neck, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. 

Mikasa opens her eyes and sees herself reflected in the mirror mounted on the wall. Is that face really hers? Is she really enjoying this so visibly? And Annie… Annie looks like something straight from the pages of a myth. Mikasa wonders how she’d never noticed the slope of Annie’s shoulders, the gentle roundness of her hips. Mikasa notices how Annie’s hand is slipped down the front of her own pants and she finds herself wishing that she could touch Annie that way instead.

She closes her eyes and listens to Annie’s breath grow hurried and heavy in time with her own until they’re both tumbling into euphoria. Mikasa relishes in Annie’s weight on top of her as she rides out her orgasm on Annie’s fingers, mumbling praises into her pillow.

When Annie is gone and Mikasa has nothing but her thoughts to fill the silence, she looks at her reflection and can only think of one thing. There is only numbness at first, but dread begins to fill her as she looks into the eyes reflected back at her and a single thought etches itself across her mind.

_ I’m a lesbian _ .

* * *

Mikasa avoids Annie.

At first, Annie doesn’t notice. Maybe it’s the fact that days after sleeping with Mikasa she’s still reeling with a juvenile excitement. Maybe it has something to do with her desire to pretend things are the same as they’ve always been. The thing about Annie and her feelings for Mikasa is that they can’t seem to settle. One moment she’s irritated by Mikasa’s antics, the next she understands them, and the next she’s contemplating asking Mikasa out on an actual date (even though she knows it could never happen).

But Annie realizes she’s being avoided when they come very near to passing each other on campus and Mikasa’s eyes shine with panic before she turns suddenly and walks quickly away.

It hurts.

* * *

A week passes.

Mikasa is too worried by herself to notice that Jean has grown considerably distant, but Jean recognizes her apathy. It makes something twist in him, shatters his lungs every time he kisses her. He noticed for the first time that she doesn’t close her eyes when she kisses him, instead, she looks blankly ahead. When he caught her, she closed her eyes, but she didn’t seem embarrassed or flustered.

“I love you, Mikasa,” Jean whispers, smiling at Mikasa.

She frowns, looking at him as though only just noticing him. She closes her eyes and nods, burrowing beneath the blankets. It’s the sleepy, lazy sort of movement that Jean usually views with an unwavering fondness.

His eyes sting and a lump forms in his throat as he tucks Mikasa’s hair behind her ear. Why is it that he can pour so much of himself into her and get nothing in return emotionally, yet, still treasure her? What is so immensely amazing about Mikasa Ackerman that it hurts to imagine himself without her?

“Do you hear me, Mikasa?” Jean asks. “I love you so much.”

Mikasa’s eyes meet Jean’s. Her smile makes the world feel alright. She smooths down the hairs made wild by his tossing and turning and she kisses the tip of his nose. Yes, she thinks, she can tolerate this and as long as she can tolerate being loved by a man, she can tolerate not acknowledging her desire to be with Annie intimately.

“I hear you, Jean,” she whispers. “You know how I feel about you.”

But he doesn’t. Jean bites back the question that’s weighed down on him for weeks. He knows Armin wouldn’t lie, but maybe Armin misunderstood an innocent situation. Surely, not  _ his _ Mikasa. Certainly not Jean’s girl. But Jean can’t be sure that Mikasa belongs to him in the same way he belongs to her.

For the first time in a long time, Mikasa lets Jean touch her, his fingers exploring her body. They’re joined in a mass of sweaty, writhing limbs, and heavy breaths. For Jean, it’s proof that she wants him. For Mikasa, it’s proof that she can tolerate a man’s touch.

Jean is so sweet. She knows she shouldn’t make him suffer, but she knows no one else would accept this hot and cold affection.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been so long again, but i've spent a lot of time agonizing over a logical path to follow for all of the characters involved

Mikasa pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as her cheek sinks into the pillow. Her eyes remain on her phone screen. Lewd noises, muffled by the pillow and inspired by her fingers, fill the room. Usually, Mikasa doesn’t let the sounds play out while she touches herself, but the boys are gone far away, someplace where they can’t hear her or the pornstars moan.

Closing her eyes, Mikasa focuses on the breathy, practiced moans. Her fingers move in an awkward attempt to mimic how Annie touched her before. A frustrated sigh lays between her lips and the pillow. Another groan and a pillow between her thighs replaces her finger.

Sitting up a bit, Mikasa’s palms lay flat on the bed for a moment before her fingers curl around the edge of the comforter. She rolls her hips, copying what she sees on the screen. Gasps and whimpers break the silence and she feels her body lean toward the height of pleasure.

She’s so focused she doesn’t hear the front door open: Jean, hoping to save the morning with coffee and baked goods. But she’s loud enough to be heard from the door. This is partial because she knows she’s alone, partially because it feels amazing to let herself go, and mostly because her bedroom door stands ajar.

Jean leaves his food on the kitchen counter and walks quietly down the hall to Mikasa’s room, his heart pounding in his chest, not fully willing to believe that she’s making herself make such desperate sounds. He hears her murmur a plea as he looks in on her, preparing to be angry and hurt by what he’s sure will be the scene to do what Marco’s been trying to ever since he started seeing Mikasa.

But it’s nothing like what he expected. Mikasa is alone, grinding against her pillow and gripping the sheets like it’s the best fuck she’s ever had. Jean watches her hips roll a few times before his body begins to react to the sight of her. Yet, he feels like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be. But she’s his girlfriend. They fuck. It’s not like he’s not allowed to see her naked.

“-nie…  _ fuck _ …”

Jean not catching the full name, hears the fragment and thinks it sounds close enough to his. Permission. She must want him. Welcome the onslaught of mental cheering and replacing Mikasa’s previous reluctance with the image of the nymph getting herself off to just the idea of him.

Her hips falter then grow suddenly faster in their movements. She lifts her head and he knows she’s biting her lip by the muffled sound of her soft moans and pants. He steps into the room, admiring the curve of her spine, the way how she seems to glow with pleasure. Before he can stop himself, he’s at the edge of the bed, reaching for her. The hand falls short of the thigh.

Mikasa sees movement out of the corner of her eye and, even in her rapture, she recognizes what it means. Her heart pounds now in a mixture of fear and pleasure. She wonders how much was heard as her eyes fall upon Jean. She scrambles back, away from Jean and pulls the comforter over herself in one swift movement.

* * *

A pen clicks over and over again, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, but always irritatingly. Irritating in a way that reminds Annie of Mikasa. Mikasa and her texts. Mikasa and the words she never says, hidden in the pauses between the nonsense that she spills.

But, it seems, everything reminds Annie of Mikasa in the ongoing absence of Mikasa. It’d be stranger, she thinks, to not be reminded of Mikasa in the library when it’s so quietly loud and she can’t help but wonder about Mikasa. Warm Mikasa with bright eyes. Smiling Mikasa. Honest Mikasa who wants to be kissed by Annie, who rarely speaks.

Annie swallows the lump forming in her throat and looks around. A few others disappear into their seats, sinking into the worn cushions and tapping away on their phones and laptops. A few dry pages turn. Annie bites her lip, shaking her head.

It’s not that she feels anything even remotely romantic toward Mikasa. The issue is that she likes habits. She likes routines, even when she doesn’t follow them, and Mikasa has severely ruined an enjoyable schedule. Or, at least, that’s what Annie attempts to convince herself is true.

They only fucked a few times. Rather, Annie fucked Mikasa. Mikasa fucked Annie over. Annie replays every encounter over and over again, trying to find the exact moment that made Mikasa so cold. But Mikasa has always been cold, even when she’s warm.

“What’s got you so out of it?”

“Fucking Ackerman,” Annie mutters.

“Mikasa?”

Annie’s eyes widen and she focuses enough to realize that Krista is talking to her.

“That got your attention…” Krista sighs as she sits across from Annie, tossing her bag onto the table between them. “Are you two… Ah, I probably don’t wanna know, do I?”

“She’s ignoring me,” Annie says, shrugging noncommittally. “It wasn’t serious, anyway.”

“But…” Krista frowns as she eases a textbook out of her bag.

“I don’t know,” Annie says, softly, sinking back into her chair. “I don’t care.”

“Yep.” Krista notices the longing in Annie’s gaze. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“But it wasn’t.” Annie draws in a deep breath. “She kept telling me that she’s straight, that she has Jean. It was stupid in the beginning, and irritating. Now…” Annie cuts herself off and types randomly to feel busy.

“It’s a good thing,” Krista whispers, smiling at Annie. “You’d only get hurt hanging onto her.”

“Yeah, but I’m hurt  _ now _ .” Annie bites her lip and looks away. “I shouldn’t be. I know that.” She pauses again and meets Krista’s eyes. “We were making progress. I don’t know what I expected.”

* * *

When Mikasa begins to confess, she doesn’t expect Jean to interrupt her. But he does and that terrifies her.

“Jean, I’m,” Mikasa begins, leaning against the counter, holding her robe even though it’s securely tied around her waist.

“I know,” Jean says, slowly. He sits at the table, his back to her and his head in his hands.

Jean doesn’t know what feels worse. Is he more embarrassed by the fact that she turned his sexual advances down before he could open his mouth to seduce her? Or is it the fact that he’s sure now because of her reaction to being caught and the fact that he only heard a fragment that wasn’t moaning his name? Why would she? He knows that he keeps himself obviously accessible to Mikasa.

“I think we should…” Mikasa trails off as Jean stands, the chair teetering on two legs before crashing to the floor.

“No,” Jean says, shaking his head. He turns to Mikasa and walks to her. He cradles her cheeks in his palms and shakes his head as he speaks. “I’m over it. We can work through it.”

“What are you saying?” Mikasa whispers, shaking her head now, too. Her features morph with bewilderment. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Armin told me about it,” Jean replies, speaking as though the world will end soon for them, as though nothingness might consume them in the next breath standing there in the kitchen.

“What?” Mikasa demands, pulling away from Jean. “What did he tell you?”

“I know you cheated on me, Mikasa.”

Mikasa stills, waiting for more because she hadn’t been planning to confess to that first. It hadn’t been a thought. In hindsight, coming out might’ve then begged the question of how she knew when she’d previously seemed  _ extremely _ interested solely in men. How had she suddenly realized herself? Logically, Jean would have been curious.

“I don’t care about who he is, or what you did, or when you did it.” Jean peppers Mikasa’s faces with tender kisses. “I love you and I don’t want anything to come between us. You’re mine regardless of who’s had you.”

“ _ No, Jean, _ ” Mikasa sobs. Tears well in her eyes, blurring her vision, but she already has seen how lovingly he looks at her, the pain in his eyes.

Mikasa’s hands rest against Jean’s chest, urging her to push him away. But she’s unfathomably glad that he’s there to stay. What was she thinking? Leaving Jean, being honest, it would’ve ruined everything. It’s safer to go on feeding into his fantasy.

And Jean goes on kissing Mikasa. He thinks he’s kissing away the person who’d had her, but Annie’s caresses scar the unblemished skin beneath his digits. Even as he slides her robe off of her shoulders, there is only Annie. And Mikasa knows that.

It’s fact that Mikasa doesn’t want Jean. As true as the tides on shores, as true as the passing of time, it’s true that Mikasa can only crave Annie.

* * *

Mikasa focuses on the sound of her feet on the pavement and the rhythm of her heart. High school was hell before she discovered the joys of running.

It was a private thing, a secret, because Eren made it clear the summer before high school began for them that he didn’t want to live in her athletic shadow. In fact, he was tired of her fighting for him, scoring higher than him, and pulling off the lone wolf act better than him. Out of respect for her closest friend, Mikasa stepped back. She threw herself into cheer and art, things Eren had no real interest in that still allowed them to be close.

But Mikasa hated cheer. She hated how much effort she put into her appearance. She hated how some of the girls carved their bodies down with suffering to catch the gaze of any passing dope who was fairly talented on the sports teams. (Even so, she’d found herself wearing a few boys’ jerseys and dieting her way to hell.) The exercise was tedious, almost as tedious as the process of grooming herself into the perfect teenage girl. But it made Eren happy that she was sticking to her thing and out of his. So she couldn’t fill her downtime with soccer or basketball, but she could jog late at night.

Mikasa slows as she approaches the familiar bright lights of the deli she sometimes gets lunch from. She pulls her earbuds out and slips her wallet from her waistband before walking inside.

Her thoughts shift to Jean as she browses the snacks only somewhat interestedly. She rarely has a sweet tooth, but binging on candy somehow lessens the stress of lying to Jean and ignoring Armin. Armin’s growing urgency to make things right and apologize without letting Eren know the truth it exhausting to witness.

A bell chimes as the door opens. Cool air flows into the store, soothing Mikasa’s burning skin. She looks up, as anyone would, to see who came in. Flushed cheeks and blonde hair accompanying a familiar cool visage meet her gaze. Mikasa looks away as her heart threatens to leap from her chest and call Annie’s name for her.

But she doesn’t have to speak because Annie comes to her. They stand silently beside each other, pretending to be interested in chocolate bars and gum for a minute until Annie breaks the silence.

“Did I do something to you?” Annie asks. When she went over the scene in her head, she hadn’t sounded so betrayed.

“No.” Mikasa shakes her head.

“Then why avoid me?”

“Jean knows I cheated on him,” Mikasa whispers. She looks at Annie.

“You love him?” Annie meets Mikasa’s eyes.

“He loves me,” Mikasa says, grabbing a pack of gum and turning suddenly away from Annie. She walks to the counter and pays for her gum.

Annie waits a few seconds and then follows Mikasa out of the store. Surprisingly, Mikasa waits for Annie.

“Does he make you cum?” Annie asks.

“What do you want?” Mikasa sighs.

“Do you think about me?”

“I miss the days when you rarely fucking talked to me,” Mikasa hisses, but she’s thinking about Annie now. “You don’t even want me to touch you. Remember, I’m not important enough?”

“That still hurts your feelings?” Annie smiles, thinking that it’s nice to inspire any sort of reaction in Mikasa with only words. “I thought you were straight.”

“I thought so, too,” Mikasa replies. She lets her words hang in the air as she gazes almost challengingly at Annie.

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” Annie murmurs, meeting Mikasa’s gaze evenly. “I’ll give you exactly what you’re looking for, Ackerman.”

“I think about you when he fucks me,” Mikasa says. She’d like to say something else, to mention something not related to sex, but she’s not sure anymore how to communicate sans sex with Annie.

From there, it only makes sense to walk back to Mikasa’s apartment where the boys are asleep by then. Annie and Mikasa share a bottle of wine that Armin’s been saving, whispering suggestive things to each other. They’re keenly aware of the possibility of being caught. It’s terrifying, arousing.

By the time Mikasa and Annie find each other on the couch, though, there are no longer words to be spoken. For the time, they are only two women as good as strangers to each other. And when Mikasa touches Annie for the first time, Annie accepts her caress graciously.

Mikasa’s fingers slip beneath Annie’s sweatshirt and feel the warmth of Annie’s skin breathe through the thin fabric of a tank top. They move slowly upward, enjoying the dips and curves of Annie’s stomach.

Annie’s breath catches when Mikasa’s fingers find the peaks of her breasts. It’s not that Mikasa is particularly talented with her fingers. There’s just something about how she never looks away from Annie’s face, how her lips part only slightly, and how she seems intent on not rushing things.

And they don’t. The pace is so slow that Annie is worried the sun will rise and Armin or Eren will find them before either of them are completely undressed. But it happens that the seconds that feel like hours are really only seconds and soon they’re both naked with bodies so teased that they ache to be satisfied.

Mikasa straddles Annie on the couch, gripping the arm on which Annie’s head rests, and she rocks her hips in slow circles. Sweat slickens their skin. They’re both so far gone that even the slightest hint of a touch against their cores makes their bodies shake. Mikasa’s chest fills with warmth as her body chases an orgasm.

The position reminds her of sleepovers and slumber parties. Of whispered  _ I’ll be the boy and you’ll be the girl _ ’s. Of youthful curiosity. Of the time she got so drunk, it took weeks to remember that she’d cum while one of the girls on the squad had dry humped her on a dare at a party. It was hot to the guys. The girls looked at her differently afterward.

Annie strokes Mikasa’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of another woman’s cunt pressed against her. It’s been a while since she’s been in the position. In college, the women she’d dated had rarely been interested in even just trying something like it. She’d almost forgotten how good it felt.

It is both a mental and physical pleasure to be joined as one in such a way with another woman. To know one can be so close to another is a breath of air. The warmth between Mikasa’s legs mirrored by that of Annie feels like heaven. She moans a long, drawn out note of pleasure. She’s amazed by how much of Annie she can feel. The pearl, the petals of the flower, the lips slick with excitement. Moving against each other. Moving against the fine hairs above the mound.

Then, when they’re near their ends, Mikasa and Annie find each other’s lips and kiss each other as though wanting to devour each other. And they feel each other cum, chest to chest, nose to nose.

Mikasa has never felt anything like it before. She has to cover her mouth to smother the noises that threaten to have her roommates discover her as she is. And Annie’s rapture is nearly silent save for three short gasps to accompany the shuddering and the fingers digging into Mikasa’s flesh.

Then they lay together on the couch, a mess of sweat and tangled limbs, and Annie is filled with a sense that this peace is temporary, that she will never be stable in Mikasa’s life. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Look at me,” Annie whispers.

Mikasa’s eyelids twitch. Her tongue peeks out from between her lips to wet them. A moment passes, and then another, and another. She opens her eyes slowly, the gates of a prophesied paradise creak open to admit a vagabond. They close again. The call is lost.

Annie doesn’t push Mikasa any further. A fear lingers at the edges of her thoughts.  _ What if? What if? What if she likes me? What if I like her? _ Temporary affection and caring. Love kindles itself with Annie’s teeth on Mikasa’s thighs.

“You wanna play a game?” Mikasa asks, her voice just loud enough to be heard above the whirring and clicking of the air conditioner.

“I should go.”

“If that’s what you want…”

“It’s up to you.” Annie sits up and grabs her shirt off of the arm of the couch.

Mikasa slips an arm around Annie’s waist and looks up at the slightly red face illuminated by the cool glow of the television and the moonlight.

“C’mon, just one little game,” she whispers, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Fine.” Annie leans back and looks down at Mikasa.

“Lay back.” Mikasa smiles, that stupid, sweet smile, and she sits up. She tucks her hair behind her ear as Annie lays down before her.

Naked.

Skin against skin as hot as a flame.

“Your body is uncharted land,” Mikasa whispers.

“That’s corny.” But Annie smiles.

“I’m exploring it,” Mikasa continues. She leans forward and kisses the skin just below Annie’s stomach.

“Just say you wanna fuck me,” Annie says, rolling her eyes.

“I mean enough to you to do it?”

Annie closes her eyes and clears her throat, considering it. She’s wanted this for a while now, she realizes. It’s almost silly, but she knows she’d cum immediately with just the slightest, clumsiest touch as long as the hand guiding the juvenile movement was Mikasa’s.

Mikasa’s lips travel lower, lower. And her heart climbs higher, higher, and lodges itself in her throat. She might cry. She can’t breathe. But she doesn’t want to. Mikasa’s spread across Annie’s thighs, pushing them slowly apart.

Annie feels the cushions dip and then rise. She hears Mikasa move to the floor and she shifts with her. Annie spreads her legs as Mikasa coaxes her hips forward. Mikasa’s arms are warm against her bare skin. She thinks of the feeling of temporariness from just minutes ago and her head swims.

Warm mouth. Tongue swirling around in search of everything, recognizing nothing. Mikasa looks sweet from here, from Annie’s perspective. Kneeling on the floor, eyes wide with wonder and looking up every few seconds at Annie’s face to see if what she’s doing is working.

Mikasa’s hands move up to caress Annie’s breasts, becoming familiar with her lover’s womanhood. She holds Annie’s gaze as her lips close around the flushed pearl of her cunt. Her tongue circles it quickly, swipes across it twice. That’s it, that makes Annie’s thighs twitch and her breath catch in her throat.

Annie runs her fingers through Mikasa’s hair and looks into her eyes. Her lips part and her hips rock, desperate for a release.

“Use your fingers,” Annie whispers.

Mikasa’s languid gaze grows almost predatory as she slips two fingers into Annie’s sex, licking and sucking now mercilessly at her lover’s clit. Her cheeks are flushed. It’s hot between Annie’s thighs, and the air feels thick enough to raise beads of sweat along the bridge of her nose. Uncomfortable, but arousing.

It’s not long after that Annie experiences the sort of orgasm she hasn’t known since her last serious relationship. It is one drenched in as much affection as it is in sensuality. In a moment of lust filled gratitude and euphoria, she whispers something she’s not entirely sure is true.

“I want you to myself.”

* * *

“Did Jean come over last night?” Eren asks.

Mikasa shakes her head, shrugging noncommittally. She doesn’t process the question fully until she raises her mug to her lips again and realizes there must be a reason why Eren thinks Jean came over the night before.

“But someone was here, right?” Eren folds his arms over his chest and gazes out of the window.

He looks oddly somber in his stained university t-shirt and dingy sweatpants, the legs rolled up above his ankles. There’s no gleam in his eyes. His foot taps incessantly, as constant as the ticking hands of the clock Armin bought cheap at a local thrift shop.

“No, I was watching a movie.” The lie comes easily.

“Then why did I see Annie leave after you went into your room?”

Mikasa looks down at the table before meeting her brother’s eyes. Her stomach twists like a rope into knot upon knot as seconds of silence settle heavily over them. Now, she hears the clock tick and her heart beating. She wonders what he thinks of her.

“You…” Eren trails off, shrugging. “You’re still with Jean?”

Mikasa nods. She looks down again at the table.

“You probably shouldn’t be,” Eren says, as though he’s commenting on something as unimportant as the weather.

“Are you disappointed?” Her eyes swivel around the kitchen to search for a response in anything but Eren’s eyes.

“Not because of Annie, but because of Jean.” Eren looks at the clock, then at the stove. He scratches his chin and shrugs. “I mean, he’s annoying. But I don’t know… It’s not enough… you know what I mean?”

“No, I get it.” Mikasa turns away to rummage through the cabinet blindly. “It’s fucked up.”

She feels stupid for a moment. If Eren had said nothing, she knows she would still view her relationship with Jean as something of a necessary evil and she’d continue to ignore her growing fondness for Annie without really considering what she’s doing. It’s easy to ignore the entire situation. It’s easy to consider the smaller workings of the grander show without sitting down to consume the entirety of the whole.

Her heart sinks down beneath the floorboards. To make Eren proud, to make the lives of those she loves easier in the face of adversity, to be deserving of love, that’s all Mikasa wants. When did she become so focused on pretending instead of working toward something authentic? What she has with Jean… It’s nothing. It’s plastic. It’s solid and it’s worthless. But it can be pleasant to pretend.

* * *

Jean’s heart pauses to stare at Mikasa, unable to bring itself to beat for a long moment.

“What?” Jean repeats.

Mikasa shakes her head. She leans against the counter, wondering why all of the important talks happen so close to the knives. 

“Are you sure?” Jean bites back everything he wants to say as his thoughts press against the front of his mind, heavy as the tears trying not to be released.

This is final. This is too much. Jean had always thought that he could change any behavior or thing Mikasa didn’t like about him. He could stop talking during movies. He could withstand never holding hands in public. He could cut his hair, buy the latest fashions, but he can’t become a woman. In the end, he can’t be anything like something Mikasa could ever want.

“I appreciate you, Jean,” Mikasa says, and there’s a softness in her voice that makes Jean’s heart break over and over again with each murmured syllable.

“Yeah?” Jean smiles, shaking his head. “I appreciate you. More than that, I love you.”

Mikasa draws in a deep breath and gazes at Jean, feeling a desire to comfort him, but not knowing how.

“Did you love…” Jean turns and looks at the table, at the two plates. He looks at the food she pushed around while finding the courage to be honest with him. He looks back at Mikasa.

“I am… I feel an immense fondness for you.” Mikasa walks to Jean. She touches his shoulder and cups his cheek, looking into his eyes. “You are everything a woman deserves. You’re kind. You don’t push me to be anything I’m not. Your love is unconditional. But I don’t want you to waste that love on me. I can only hurt you because I can’t return it in the same capacity.”

And Jean can no longer resist the urge to cry. The tears pour over his cheeks, hot and unwelcome. For the first time, Mikasa kisses him and he feels her fondness. So this is what an embrace would have felt like if she could have been honest with him? Why must such a tender sweetness be held captive by an end shrouded in a numbness clouded by a haze of grief?


End file.
